


Relief

by psychecas (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Gangbang, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Castiel, Twink Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-18 03:35:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3554564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/psychecas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel needs a way to sate his heat, and Dean (and the other patrons of the bar) aren't complaining one bit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Relief

Dean is having a supremely shitty day. It had started out fine, sure, but between an encounter with a pissy businessman looking to get his million-dollar sports car detailed and tuned up in two hours and an alpha who stormed into the auto shop demanding a refund because he screwed up his wiring _again_ —which Dean had explicitly told him not to mess with—his day had taken a sudden turn for the worse. Which is why he’s sitting in one of the sleazier bars of downtown Chicago, nursing his second beer and feeling sorry for himself.

It’s not like he has anyone to go home to, after all. Ever since he’d moved to Illinois, Dean’s been in a bit of a dry spell—something of an understatement, because he’s been living in Chicago for close to three years now. The thing with Lisa had turned him upside down, and moving halfway across the country had seemed logical at the time. It’s not like he regrets the decision, but sometimes Dean wonders what would have happened if he’d stuck around long enough to try and work things out with her and Ben.

He’s contemplating every decision he’s ever made when the scent hits him. Dean’s head snaps up, trying to locate the source as quickly as he can because _fuck_. That scent is like thunderstorms and dirt and wet gravel and omega and _heat_. It seems like every alpha sitting in the bar has noticed it too, because the room is dead silent as everyone’s head turns toward the closing door of the bar.

Dean’s day is starting to look up again. Because standing in the doorway, with rumpled hair and a trench coat wrapped tightly around himself, is the prettiest omega Dean’s ever seen. The kid can’t be more than twenty, certainly not old enough to be legally allowed in this place, and he positively _reeks_ of pre-heat. It’s the worst kind too, the kind that seems to be lighting a crazed fire behind the boy’s stunningly blue eyes as he makes his way over to the only empty pool table in the building: the one right next to Dean.

The room is still utterly silent, almost all of the eyes in the room glued to the omega. He seems to be well aware of this as he slowly starts to undo the buttons of his trench coat. The heat-scent is growing stronger and from what Dean can remember of his last omega fling, this kid is going to go knot-hungry in two minutes or less. Tension grows in the room as the omega pops the last button of his coat, and though it’s still wrapped around him, every alpha in the room is straining in their seat waiting to get a glimpse of what’s beneath.

Dean’s frozen in his seat when the kid turns around, facing the room at large from the pool table tucked neatly into the corner, gives a small, enigmatic smile that contrasts with his blown pupils and the slick Dean can clearly smell from his distance five feet away, and then drops his coat.

 _Jesus fuck_ is Dean’s first coherent thought. The alphas in the room seem to agree, because as the tan coat falls to the floor there’s a collective intake of breath. The omega’s scent doubles in intensity then, and from where he’s sitting Dean can clearly see the slick dripping down the omega’s toned, _naked_ thighs. No one moves, though, not to jump him or fuck him or knot him over and over again until he can’t see straight, which is currently the path Dean’s thoughts are wandering on. No one moves, waiting for some unconscious signal.

The signal comes in the form of the stark naked omega spinning around and bending his slick ass over the pool table, presenting in front of the entire room. Dean’s out of his seat before he even realizes it, thinking with his knot for the first time since he was a teenager. Two other alphas beat him to the table, though, and he circles around them, a queue of alphas and even a few betas lining up behind him as the first man pulls his dick out of his pants and unceremoniously shoves it into the omega’s gaping hole.

“Fuck,” is the first word Dean ever hears the kid say. His voice is deeper than Dean expected, but he doesn’t care because the kid smells like fucking sunshine and rainbows and Dean can hardly wait his turn to seat himself deep in that tight ass. “Fuck, yeah, alpha please—”

“Shut him up,” the alpha fucking him growls, and the guy before Dean moves around the pool table, undoing his fly and stroking it a few times before fisting the omega’s hair in his hands and guiding his lax mouth to the alpha’s cock.

The omega looks completely blissed out, his body going loose as he’s bounced between two rapidly forming knots. There’s no gagging or hesitation as the alpha fucking his mouth pulls his head forward until those chapped, pink lips are resting at the base of his half-formed knot, and the lack of resistance only seems to encourage the two alphas more. The man fucking the kid’s ass is making these little grunting sounds as he pistons in and out of the omega as hard as he can, and each thrust punches a fucked out, muffled sound from behind the other alpha’s cock. It’s making Dean reach down and grip the base of his knot just to stop it from swelling already, and his arousal is only heightened by the new, fully-fledged heat-scent the kid is sporting. The kid smells better than Lisa, better than Cassie, hell, better than _pie_.

When the alpha’s knot starts to really swell, catching at the rim of the omega’s ass every time the cock inside him pistons in and out, the kid lets out a filthy groan around the cock in his mouth, eyes rolling inside his head as he shoots untouched all over the pool table, his little cock twitching and staying hard even as the kid spasms through the aftershocks.

Dean swears into the palm of one hand, the other pressing down hard against his dick because no way is he not fucking this kid next, even if he has to fight all the other people in the room to do it. The alpha in front of him curses too, his cock coated in a fresh batch of the sweetest slick Dean’s ever smelled. 

“Whore,” the alpha growls, landing a sharp slap to the meat of the omega’s thigh. The kid jerks and makes an ungodly noise around the swelling knot in his mouth, the alpha fucking it looking like he’s in heaven. The man spanks the kid again, one hit after the other, alternating between his ass and the crease where his butt cheeks meet the tips of his thighs. Dean’s always been proud of his stamina, but all that seems to crumble away as the kid moans and shouts around the knot locked behind his teeth and writhes around on the pool table like he’s being payed to do it. Dean vaguely notices someone with their phone out behind him, recording the whole thing, and somewhere in the back of his mind he hopes it goes up on one of his favorite porn sites.

“Look at you, bitch,” the alpha grunts, easing up on the poor kid and choosing instead to grip his hips and pulling him back onto the knot that’s almost too big to slip out of the stretched hole. “Fucking knotslut. I’d say you’d do anything for cock but we already know that’s true, don’t we? You’re just a slut, just a pretty omega bitch here for us to use however we like, aren’t you?”

Dean makes a low, involuntary noise when the kid tries to nod, making a noise of assent around the slowly deflating knot in his mouth. The alpha fucking him makes a disgusted noise, yanking his knot out one last time before groaning and spilling into the omega’s hole, one hand massaging his knot and the other kneading at the bruising flesh of the omega’s ass.

The kid cries out as best he can, still desperate to be knotted and furious that he’s being denied. The alpha smacks him one last time and then steps away, Dean pushing into the empty space he’d left behind before he even fully registers that he’s moving. The knot in the omega’s mouth slips out, and the kid barely takes the time to lick his chapped lips before he’s begging, canting his hips back and presenting, so fucking hungry for Dean’s knot.

“Alpha, please, fuck me, knot me, need it, need _you_ ,” the omega babbles, fists clenched on the green of the pool table and his own milky come drying on his stomach.

“You sure?” Dean asks through the haze of _fuckmatebreed_ running through his head, because he has to check, has to make sure because ever since what happened to Jo he’s been hyper-aware of his inner alpha, and the fact that this kid probably doesn’t even know what he’s saying he’s so out of his mind with heat.

“Yes,” his omega groans, and Dean’s hands come up and grip the boy’s flank, holding him steady even as his thumbs caress the welting skin. “ _Please_.”

And that’s all it takes. Dean growls low in his throat and reaches down to free his cock from his jeans and underwear, gripping himself and guiding his cock into the tight heat of the omega before him. The feeling is indescribable and Dean groans as he bottoms out, drops of come sliding out from around his cock and dripping down the omega's thighs. He can hear the slap of skin on skin from behind him, other alphas too impatient to properly wait their turns and deciding to make do with their own hands. Dean doesn't care. He's currently sheathed inside the tightest piece of omega ass he's ever felt, the kid's channel hot and slick around him, and he doesn't care about anything else right now. 

"Move," the kid whines, trying and failing to fuck himself down on Dean's cock—he’s so short that his feet are dangling a few inches above the ground and he has no leverage. Dean chuckles darkly and leans over, baring his teeth right against the little twink's neck. His omega stills immediately, the scent of submission almost bowling Dean over.

"You want me to move?" He asks lowly, his alpha taking over and leaving rational thought behind. "Ask nicely, whore."

"Please," the omega groans again. "Please, I need you to fuck me, knot me, anything, just move _please._ "

So, because Dean isn't cruel no matter how sadistic he may be at times, he moves. He pulls out of the tight heat of his omega's ass and then slams back in, once, twice, building up a sure rhythm that has the boy underneath him bucking and crying out and coming untouched for the second time all over the pool table. This time, though, the kid doesn’t shoot off from his tiny, limp omega cock. This time he fucking _squirts_ , soaking the front of Dean’s jeans and screaming his pleasure into the soft green felt. 

This spurs another alpha to head around the table and begin fucking the omega’s mouth, and this time Dean has a close-up view. Either the omega has a lot of practice sucking cock or the rumors going around about omegas are true: they really don’t have a gag reflex. Dean can clearly see the outline of the cock in the kid’s throat, a little bump in the middle of his thin neck that shouldn’t make Dean fuck faster through the come his processor had left behind. He’s willing to bet that if the mid was on his back Dean’s cock would be clearly outlined in the boy’s stomach.

Dean can feel his knot swelling, the fastest it’s started since he was nineteen and fucking Rhonda Hurley with a pair of pink panties hooked around his ankle. Every thrust into the tight channel beneath him has Dean grunting and swearing, muttering obscenities his mother would disown him for into the omega’s ear and watching his eyes flutter in ecstasy and listening to the muffled moans he lets out when Dean calls him a cockslut, a knot-hungry whore who’s going to bend over for every alpha in the house.

When Dean has to force his knot past the clenching rim of his omega’s hole, he starts pressing biting kisses to the boy’s neck, having just enough presence of mind to bruise but not scar the pale skin. Every thrust becomes harder and the tightness of the hole he’s fucking makes it worse—it’s like the boy is trying to keep Dean locked inside him, trying to tie them together with the engorged base of Dean’s knot. For a moment Dean forgets the alphas queueing up behind him, forgets the knot that’s being locked behind his omega’s teeth, and loses himself in the base instinct of fucking this beautiful, petite, fertile bitch.

And than the moment is gone, an alpha behind Dean tapping him on the shoulder and growling at him. “We all want a turn, buddy—you want to knot the bitch, you do it when everyone’s gone.”

“Fine,” Dean snaps, turning his attention back to the convulsing body underneath him. The omega has come again, being fucked at both ends combined with the rapidly forming bruises on the side of his naked throat too much for him to bear without creaming over Dean’s knot again. The sight of his full knot slamming in and out of the boy’s tight hole, drenched and glistening with slick and just barely managing to escape the clench of the omega’s pink, stretched rim, has Dean groaning, wrapping a hand around the base of his knot, and coming. _Hard_.

When Dean comes back to himself, knot diminished from being denied, he’s already been shoved to the side and another alpha has taken his place. The omega looks like sin personified, his feet dangling in the air and his hands curled into fists on the table, taking cocks in his mouth and ass like he was born to do it. Dean wishes he could get hard again, wishes he was in his rut, because this is the most gorgeous boy he’s ever set eyes on and the heat-scent is driving him to the brink of madness.

Dean’s never been a fan of the whole ‘true mates’ ideology, but he has to admit that no one has ever smelled this good. No one has made him want to hold them down and fuck them into next week while still raising that protective instinct in him, the one that people attribute to omegas but that all alphas feel. Dean wants to take this kid home and settle him in his nest and bring him juice and toast and knot him throughout the rest of his heat because he knows how exhausting those things can be. Dean wants to cook him dinner and eat him out, because surely if the kid’s slick smells that good it must taste even better. Dean wants everything from this omega, and he doesn’t even know his name.

So Dean stays. He could leave; it’s a weeknight and he should probably go into the garage at some point tomorrow, but being the owner has its perks. He can afford to stay for a while, wait for the alphas to be done, and make sure the kid has a safe way home. Anyway, it’s not like it’s exactly a hardship, watching a pretty bitch get fucked.

Over the course of the next couple hours, Dean finds himself pulling up a barstool to the pool table, sitting himself next to the omega and running comforting hands through his hair and down his welted flank as the boy gets fucked by at least two dozen alphas. He whispers in the kid’s ear, filthy praise and encouragement, and when the boy’s mouth is free he babbles, calls himself a slut and a whore, and then Dean says it again makes him parrot it back to him: _good little knotslut, good whore._

By the early hours of the morning, his omega’s ass is loose and positively dripping come, and when Dean asks if he can clench, all that happens is the boy’s gaping rim fluttering and a fresh wave of come dripping down his leg and onto the floor.

“Do you have a plug?” Dean asks, looking around the bar, which is empty now save for the janitor who’s waiting impatiently for the two of them to be done. The omega makes a vague noise of assent, his eyes, which had been shut for the last hour, fluttering open weakly.

“Coat,” the kid murmurs, voice hoarse and weakened by hours of getting fucked. Dean glances around until he sees the discarded trench coat over in the corner, then picks it up and rummages in the pockets until he pulls out an inflatable plug. 

“Do you want me to help you, or can you do this yourself?” Dean is suddenly very aware of the fact that he could be completely overstepping his boundaries—the boy almost certainly came out to sate his heat and may not want Dean to hang around any longer than necessary. But he has to make sure, has to make sure nothing bad is going to happen to the kid after this, because the girl who counts as his little sister went walking one night after her heat and wasn’t the same for months afterward.

“Please,” the omega manages to get out, pulling his legs up sluggishly and rolling onto his side on top of the pool table, eyes slipping shut again.

“Please do it for you?” Dean asks again. There’s another confirming noise, so he makes his way back over to the pool table, laying a gentle hand on the boy’s arm before pushing gently so that the boy’s spread out on his back.

 _Jesus_ , Dean thinks again, because as shocked as he’d been earlier, he hadn’t been paying too much attention to the boy’s face. Now that Dean is more himself, he takes a moment to admire the beauty of the kid in front of him. The smooth face, the cracked, swollen lips, the eyes that are currently covered that Dean remembers to be a bright, vivid blue. “What’s your name?”

“Cas,” the boy slurs, flowed by a few other indecipherable syllables.

“Cas?”

“Mmm.” 

“I’m Dean.” It’s obvious Dean isn’t going to get much out of this kid, so he glances over at the janitor, who’s resigned himself to wiping down the bar instead.

“Hey, could you please get me a towel or something?” He requests. The older beta rolls his eyes, but obliges, handing Dean what seems to be a relatively clean cloth.

“Howe are you going to get home?” Dean asks gently as he wipes down Cas’s stomach, then moves lower to clean up as much come as he can with the small rag. The noise Cas makes is almost akin to a purr as the rag passes over his abused hole, the muscles in his stomach contracting quickly as the sensation becomes too much.

“Sorry,” Dean murmurs, trying to ease up. Realizing that there’s not much else he can do, Dean reaches instead for the discarded plug, slipping it in easily and trying to expand it as slowly as possible until it refuses to be tugged out of the boy’s loose hole.

“W’s g’nna take a cab,” Cas finally slurs out. Dean looks up sharply from where he’s been wiping up come from around the base of the plug.

“Oh _hell_ no,” he says firmly. There’s no way he’s letting this kid walk out of here at one in the morning to jump right in the back of a sleazy cab with a shifty driver that could take him anywhere without the practically comatose boy noticing. “You are not taking a cab.”

“Bus?” Cas questions, his voice lilting adorably. Dean wants to smack himself when he thinks that, because there’s next to no chance he’s ever going to see Cas again after today, especially if he’s coming off as creepy or obsessive.

“Dude, no. I’ll take you home, drop you off wherever you need to go.” Cas raises his head, eyes slitted as if to let in as little light as possible as he peers at Dean.

“Why?” And that is the million dollar question. Dean’s not going to take the time to explain the whole story to this half-asleep kid, so he settles for the abridged version.

“I don’t want you to get hurt.” As tired as he is, Cas seems to get it, and he lets his head drop down against the table, Dean winching when he hears the dull _thud_ of bone on wood. “Okay, kid, let’s get you outta here.”

Dean manages to wrap Cas back up in his ugly-ass trench coat, and when it becomes obvious that the kid isn’t going to be able to walk in a while, he picks him up bridal style and carries him out with an apologetic smile aimed at the janitor. 

Once Cas is comfortably settled in the backseat of the Impala, he slurs out his address before falling asleep, his head tilted back and lightly snoring in a way that Dean can’t help but think is fucking adorable. Cas doesn’t wake up when they pull up to his apartment building, or when Dean fishes in his coat for the keys, or when Dean carries him up three flights of stairs. He does wake up, however, when Dean starts to smell _heat_ on him again, just the slightest whiff. He sets Cas down on the bed and moves to step away, but he’s caught by a surprisingly strong hand on his wrist.

“Wait.” Cas’s voice is still rough, but it’s stronger than it was an hour ago. His eyes are wide and disarmingly blue and Dean finds himself doing what the boy asks, settling on the bed next to him. The next wave of Cas’s heat is coming, he can smell it, and the boy can obviously feel it because he fidgets, his little cock poking through the flap of his coat.

“Stay.” It’s a simple word, but it makes Dean’s heart catch in his throat for reasons he can’t quite name.

“Okay,” he whispers, and Cas smiles. He tugs gently at the lapels of Dean’s jacket, removing it, then his overshirt, then his undershirt, and proceeds to strip Dean as bare as he is when he discards his trench coat on the floor.

Dean moves gently, deflating the plug inside of Cas and then replacing it with his cock in one fluid movement. They move slowly, Cas too loose and relaxed to do much of anything but roll onto his side and let Dean lift his leg as they move together. When Dean starts to pull away when his knot starts to form, Cas pulls him forward again, murmuring permission as Dean forces his knot past Cas’s fluttering rim as gently as he can.

“Thank you,” Cas whispers into the darkness of the room. Dean falls asleep with a warm body pressed against him, buried inside of the warm, comfortable channel that feels like it was made for him. Before he drifts off to sleep, he presses one final, gentle kiss to Cas’s forehead and promises that he’ll stay this time. He’ll stay as long as Cas wants him to.


End file.
